***
That afternoon Louis sat in his office feeling grumpy, unable to believe the woman had turned an outing planned to be uncomfortable for her into a wonderful day. Even when her skirt had gotten caught on the buggy, she’d somehow managed to make that appear as nothing to get upset about. Didn’t women get the vapors anymore? What happened to the females who were timid and shy and fainted at an unmentionable word?
Marian never had appeared embarrassed or the least bit intimidated. And somehow she’d made friends with the meanest captain in his crew. Louis hated what he was doing and how he was acting, but if he wanted his dream, he had somehow to daunt her interest in the business.
“Mr. Fournet, may I speak with you?”
Louis glanced up from the papers he was reading on his desk, and noticed the man standing in the doorway. It was after five o’clock, and most people had already left for the day. He glanced across the hallway and noticed that Marian was gone.
“Come in,” Louis said. He motioned to the man to sit across from him. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Richard Vanderhom and I am the leader of the United Dockworkers Association, here in New Orleans.”
Louis felt his body stiffen at the mention of the new union that had recently been formed.
“We’re contacting all of the shipping companies that we do business with to let you know our demands. We don’t want a work stoppage, but most of us haven’t had a raise in years and we work six, sometimes seven, days a week.”
The man held his cap in his hands, twisting it nervously as he sat stiffly in the chair across from Louis.
“The men have asked me to let you and the other owners know that we’d like a ten-cent-an-hour raise, with a week’s paid vacation a year, and paid holidays.” He paused. “We don’t feel like we’re asking for much, but we’re serious. If our demands are not met, then we will walk off the job in thirty days.”
Louis sat back in his chair and stared at the man he felt was trying to intimidate him. He let the man wait, while he stared at him. In the last five years, unions had sprung up all over the city.
“What makes you think I have the money to give every man a raise? Plus a week off and paid holidays?” He leaned back. “You’re talking a hundred workers and thousands of dollars. If your workers haven’t noticed, we aren’t receiving as many shipments as we were before the war. The docks are in bad shape and most people are now shipping directly into Boston and Charleston rather than New Orleans.”
“We have families, sir.”
“I understand and I sympathize. But business is decreasing and until the city decides to restore the wharf we’re losing out to other cities that have better docks.” He paused. “I suggest you go back and tell your men that they should be thankful they have their jobs.” The man drew himself up. “I’ll go back and tell them what you said, but I can tell you they’re not going to be happy. I’m sure this won’t be the end of this.”
“That may be, but my business doesn’t have the money to give to you and the other workers.”
“Cuvier Shipping is the second largest shipping company in New Orleans. I find it hard to believe that you can’t give your workers a ten-cent pay raise,” he said.
“I can’t do it without letting some of them go,” Louis said.
The man shrugged and Louis felt certain he didn’t believe him. They sat there in silence a few more moments and finally the man stood.
“I appreciate your time. Good day, Mr. Fournet.”
“Good day,” he said, and watched him walk out of his office.
A strike. Damn, but that’s all he needed was labor problems to complicate the selling of this company. Worse, if Marian found out, she’d probably give the man exactly what he was asking. Maybe it was a good thing she’d already gone home for the day. This little matter fell into the shadowy area that Louis kept from his partner. Marian need never know about the union leader’s visit.
Maybe the business would be sold before any strike could be called.
Wronged (Book 1) Page 20